Misguided Ghost
by anyadoll
Summary: She tells him everything. Did she really expect it not to blow up in her face? Did she really think she was the victim? Is she really the villain in the story?
**A/N:** Man, Blindspot just knows right where to hit you, doesn't it? Kurt lying to Jane to protect his own feelings, Jane lying in general, and Kurt realizing he spent all those years hating his dad for something he didn't do, and never planned on doing. Wow. I'm setting this slightly in the future, but not far into it. It was going to have more of a plot, but it took on a life of its own and became this. Could possibly be continued but I'm marking it complete for now. "Villain," by Lucie Silvas.

 **Misguided Ghost**

XOX

 _I'm not looking for a kind word_

 _I know some things gotta hurt_

 _I don't expect a second chance_

 _I'm everything you say I am_

 _My reasons just seem to make it worse…_

XOX

Her chest was tight, her throat stuck as she choked on her greatest fear and all of her betrayal. Tears slipped down her reddened cheeks, her gaze downcast.

The tension hung in the room thick as fog, its occupants held in stagnant suspension, frozen in time.

He breathed heavily, fists flexing at his sides. Her words turned in his head, over and over. He heard them, understood what they meant, but they skipped like a broken record on repeat.

" _I did this to myself. I used you—all of you. I'm sorry."_

It was nine-o'clock on a Tuesday night when she could no longer keep _all of this_ to herself.

When the truth came pouring out in spectacular fashion, without any prompting on his part. He'd simply asked if she was enjoying New York in the spring as he ushered her into his apartment to go over a case, and she broke.

It went about as she expected, if she were being honest. His emotions were anything if not predictable. Pain. Anger. More pain. More anger.

It's not like she'd made some pretty vow never to lie to him, and he certainly lied to her when it suited him. Their whole relationship was built on a shaky house of cards—move one, and they all come tumbling down.

And that they did.

His silence was the hardest part. As if she wasn't worth screaming at. As if that was a waste of his breath.

Maybe it was.

Here she stood, a stranger to him now more so than when she'd stepped out of that bag six months ago. A stranger claiming she actually was _that_ little girl, part of a conspiracy against the government, part of a team that included her former fiancé, one she secretly met with. And worse still—that she'd done _all of this_ to herself.

Jane wasn't sure which part had pushed him over the edge, but at some point in her speech, he'd stopped looking at her like she was crazy. He started to slide the puzzle together. He worked the math and her strange behavior and her hot-and-cold feelings towards him out in his head.

When he finally met her wide, beseeching eyes, his had gone icy and detached. He saw her as he had that very first day—a suspect in a chair. She half expected him to start calling her _ma'am._

She visibly flinched at his flat, vacant expression. The two words he spoke were the very ones she anticipated, but they didn't hurt any less.

" _Get out."_

For a moment, she wanted it to be just the two of them again, _before_. She wanted the last half hour to never have happened. But he needed to know, and the past could not be undone. She knew that better than anyone.

Jane wiped away a stray tear, burying her hands deep in her jacket pockets as she turned to leave his apartment, and him, behind.

All she could do now was move forward.

XOX

Frankly, she'd been surprised to find she still had a job the next morning.

Jane assumed, with that kind of information, he would have gone straight to Mayfair. She was half expecting some kind of coup—for men like Carter to swoop in and spirit her away somewhere dark and deep.

At least, that's what Oscar said awaited her when she informed him she wouldn't keep this from Kurt anymore.

"You really think your _Special Agent_ _boyfriend_ is going to keep information like that to himself?" Oscar spat, shaking his head. "This…version of you is more naïve than I thought. This is the kind of case that makes his career—the kind that makes him Director of the FBI. You think he's going to keep it to protect his, what, long lost best friend? No, he won't. And you'll only end up buried at the bottom of another black site for your troubles."

But as she wandered the halls, no sign of anything out of sorts grabbed her attention. Mayfair greeted her with a offhand nod, Patterson and Zapata cajoled her into a girl's night, Reade acknowledged her presence in his own way, and Kurt…

Jane felt her heart plummet to the floor. _You shouldn't be surprised. She's been here working a case with him for the last week._

Kurt was putting on a wonderful show of flirting with a very confused Allison Knight. The blonde laughed at whatever he said, but it sounded forced as she discreetly scanned the room for—

"Jane! Hey, how's it going?" Allison asked a bit too brightly, moving away from Kurt's desk.

"Um…fine," she said cautiously, her eyes flitting to Kurt's. "How's your case?"

They weren't exactly friends, and making awkward conversation with Kurt's ex-girlfriend wasn't high on her to-do list. Jane didn't dislike the woman—just her habit of returning at the worst possible time. Not that she had control of that. One of Kurt and Ally's old cases had beckoned the Marshal to New York, and in light of that, the two had been working closely together.

Too closely for Jane's taste.

"Hit a few road blocks, so it may take a little while longer, but we might be able to use your help if you're not busy," Ally said, purposely not turning the statement into a question. The Marshal was smart, and seemed to have deduced things about the current state of her relationship with Kurt, as she had Jane's position at the FBI in the brief amount of time she'd been there. Like the fact that Jane's _consultant_ title seemed open to interpretation as Ally's eyes hesitantly dropped to the holster on her hip.

Her statement was clearly meant to placate her. A way for Allison to make sure Jane knew she wasn't stepping on her toes when it came to Kurt. Considering how Ally left them last time, she just assumed they were together.

Given the effort she was putting in, Jane could at least pretend that all was fine. "Sure, whatever I can do."

Kurt abruptly stood, heading towards Patterson's office.

Allison followed his retreating form before returning her gaze to Jane. "Is he…? Never mind. I'll, um, catch you later, Jane."

Jane barely nodded as the Marshal headed in the opposite direction.

XOX

Three days of the cold shoulder and an unending silent treatment put Jane in the gym, swinging away her pent-up emotions at a practice dummy.

"Yikes, I wouldn't want to be that guy," Tasha Zapata announced as she emerged from the gym locker room, freshly showered. Jane jumped, startled.

"Just…practicing," she replied tiredly, breathing hard.

"For what, a UFC match? What did Eddie ever do to you?"

Jane tilted her head to the side, confused, before realizing Zapata was referring to the dummy. "You…named him?"

"I was gonna name him Edgar, but I figured that was too literal," Tasha smirked, resting her elbow on the dummy's shoulder.

Jane laughed, grabbing her water bottle from the ground. "You two are so…mean, to each other," she said between gulps.

"Nah, it's all in good fun. We have an understanding. But you and Kurt—that's definitely not fun. It's not even foreplay anymore. What the hell is up with you two anyway? You're on, you're off, you're up, you're down. I'm getting whiplash from the sad eyes and the chilly stares and all the repressed sexual tension over here," Tasha stated, genuine curiosity lighting her face.

"We're fine."

Tasha pointed at "Eddie."

"So then, why the WWE moves? Cause in my opinion, there are only two reasons a girl gets _this_ pissed off. One, you caught him with another woman, or two, you're not getting any. And my guess is it's the latter," Tasha surmised, raising an eyebrow at Jane's suddenly flushed cheeks.

"You know we're not together, right? I kissed him _one time_ Tasha. Then I stood him up. We work on cases over dinner, sometimes. But nothing else has happened," Jane said ruefully.

And it probably never would. They'd both made sure of that. In their quest for mutually assured destruction, he'd lied about not showing up in the park that night, and she'd lied about…well, everything. Kurt's lengthy explanation about things being too complicated between them in the locker room not long ago had felt like a slap to the face, and her recent outburst had clearly obliterated any chance of furthering their relationship.

"Ugh, please. Who says you have to be in a relationship to get a little something?" Tasha said teasingly, stopping short as Kurt walked into the gym behind Jane. The brunette could hardly resist as she mustered up her most suggestive tone. "Hey, Weller, you should spar with Jane. She could use some action."

Kurt's face, if possible, went redder than Jane's.

Satisfied, Tasha gave Jane a firm nudge forward before flouncing out of the gym, well aware two sets of eyes glared daggers in her back.

The pair stood awkwardly apart, unsure of what to say.

"I'm…I'll go. I'm finished anyway," Jane mumbled, grabbing her towel and throwing it over her shoulder.

Kurt sighed heavily, running a hand down his face. His tone was hard and businesslike when he spoke. "Stay. We need to talk."

Jane rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "Right, because it went so well last time," she bit out sarcastically. _Or any of the other times, really._

His fists flexed. "You did all the talking, if I recall."

"And as _I_ recall, you didn't say a word," she pointed out. "No, that's wrong. You said two. I believe they were _get_ and _out_ , but I could be lying."

Kurt winced at her acerbic comment, really looking at her for the first time in a week. There were bags under her eyes, a haunted expression carved into the lines of her face. The weight of her secrets had been lifted, but that fleeting freedom had been replaced by his swift rejection.

What he thought of her mattered. But he'd always known that.

He dropped his own towel on the ground, walking towards her, throwing a light jab to her shoulder. She rocked back, caught off guard. "What the hell?"

"Hit me," Kurt demanded, his stance aggressive. "You don't want to talk, fine. Hit me. _Fight_ me. I can see how much you want to."

Jane shook her head, refusing to be baited. "You don't know me," she shot back, the truthfulness of that statement pushing all the right buttons as something akin to hurt filled his expression. He jabbed harder this time, to her opposite shoulder. Something dark flashed in her eyes. He could see her restraint crumbling.

"What, you get to blindside me with all of that information and think everything is going to be fine between us? I trusted you, Jane! You've been lying to me, for months! You've manipulated all of us, since day one! I thought we had something—I thought maybe we _were_ something—but it was all apart of _your plan_ ," Kurt provoked her, voice rising as he threw another angry jab. "C'mon!"

"Stop it," she seethed. "Stop. I don't want to—"

"Hurt me?" Kurt laughed disdainfully. "It's too late for that, you already did, Jane! Everything I thought I knew, everything I thought I…I felt…It was a lie! _You_ are a lie."

She could feel the prick of hot tears burning in her eyes, and before she knew it she was rushing at him, throwing sloppy punches anywhere she could get them in.

"How dare you!" she gasped, a violent sob bursting from her chest. "I thought you, _you,_ of all people, would give me the benefit of the doubt! You're the one that said my past didn't matter! _You_ said I was a good person! What does that make you, then, Kurt? Cause if I'm a liar, _so are you_!"

He froze at that, faltering for a fraction of a second—just enough time for her final punch to hit him square in the nose. He knew the inevitable crunch was coming before her fist ever connected.

The blood was instantaneous, pouring from his nose like water from a faucet. Jane's chest heaved with exertion as he stumbled back, her concern warping into grim satisfaction.

Kurt immediately pressed his towel to his gushing nose, staring at her as if she were a wild animal, volatile and untamed.

"I trusted you too, you know," Jane whispered, grabbing her water bottle and escaping the confines of the suddenly too small room.

Kurt shook his head, replaying her words from a week ago and realizing how true they were now.

 _You did this to yourself_.

XOX

Suffice to say the rest of the workday was nothing but wary, sidelong glances and whispers in the break room that ceased upon her entrance. Not that anything could be proved, and Kurt vehemently denied anything indiscreet.

 _Just an accident._

"Jesus Jane, by _action_ I meant you need to get laid, not start a brawl. Like you don't do that enough as it is," Zapata chastised, trying not to laugh as Patterson set Kurt's nose with a loud pop and a not-so-manly yelp on his part.

"Yeah, well, he asked for it," Jane replied, trying to inject levity she didn't feel into her words. She was growing tired of playing pretend. "I think I'm gonna head out a little early. Everyone's been staring at me since I broke his nose."

"Hey, we still on for girls night?" The brunette asked, grabbing her elbow as she turned to leave.

"I'm…um…not really feeling up to it. Rain check?" Jane asked pleadingly. Tasha paused, studying her.

Jane could tell she wanted to ask her what was really going on. She could see that she was holding something back, that something wasn't right. Tasha opened her mouth, the question poised on her lips, but she stopped, conceding.

"Alright, you get to bail one time. And next time we go out, you have to buy first round. Take it easy, Jane."

"Thanks, I'll see you Monday. Tell Patterson I'm sorry," Jane smiled half-heartedly.

Kurt caught her eyes before she turned away, the deep, unending sadness within them making him wonder if he'd made a mistake. She'd hurt him, deeply. But what had she given up to tell him this? A vital clue about herself? Another piece of her battered soul?

His gaze followed her until she was out of sight.

As soon as she was outside, she pulled the burner cell from her pocket, dialing the only number programmed in the phone. Oscar picked up before the end of the first ring.

"Hey…we need to meet."

XOX

Oscar couldn't stop laughing.

Jane grew more annoyed by the minute, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

"So you broke your boyfriend's nose. That's great. Serves him right for provoking you," Oscar smirked proudly.

Jane huffed in irritation. "It's not his fault. He has every right to be upset with me. I…I turned his world upside down. I'm pretty sure I know how that feels better than anyone," she ground out, narrowing her eyes. "And stop calling him my boyfriend, or his nose won't be the only one broken."

Oscar looked at her, the mirth bleeding from his tone. "Then stop playing the victim. You're a lot of things—victim isn't one of them. The sooner you realize that, the better. You're a soldier, act like one. Put your pathetic crush aside, and focus on what's happening around you. This isn't about him. He was a way in, and we took it. This is about saving the country we fought so hard to protect from itself. So let him go, and let's get started."

XOX

She walked for a long time after that, Oscar's words spinning circles in her head. She was a victim of a sort, he couldn't deny her that claim. One of her own making, if she believed the answers he fed her ravenous, empty mind. And maybe Kurt had been their way in, but she'd had to have vetted him, chosen him for a reason beyond being Taylor Shaw. That revelation still stumped her, and didn't seem quite right. There were far too many variables. If she'd been Taylor all along, why not seek her childhood friend out sooner? How could she predict he'd join the FBI? Why leave him helpless and hopeless, thinking her dead for twenty-five years? She'd remembered him enough to etch his name on her back, after all.

As for Oscar, something still felt off every time she stood in his presence, as if there was a part of him that wanted to tell her some deep, dark secret but felt duty bound not to speak it. Her questioning him about the Bearded Man's ominous warning not to trust _them_ all those months back still kept her up at night. If he intended for her not to trust the FBI, like Oscar claimed, he would have said as much. But he hadn't, and he'd been gunned down mysteriously before he got the chance to clarify.

Jane pressed a hand to her forehead, the headache there pulsating dully. She'd been burning both ends for too long, and it was starting to catch up with her.

Looking up, she didn't even realize where her legs had carried her until she was rapping on his door.

It was not answered by the person she expected.

"Allison?" Jane asked numbly, the woman's eyes immediately shimmering with apology, her grip tightening on the nearly empty wineglass in her hand. Dinner was clearly over, but she could only assume the Marshal planned for more. The spicy perfume that assaulted Jane's nose was a dead giveaway, since she hadn't been wearing any earlier. Along with the stylish, almost sheer navy blouse that probably cost more than Jane's entire wardrobe, she could tell she was intruding.

"Jane…wait," Ally started, but she was already disappearing down the hall, smacking the button for the elevator with significant force.

At least she wasn't the only one keeping secrets anymore.

XOX

"Jane! You decided to come after all, yay!" Patterson smiled widely, ushering her inside. Jane couldn't help grinning at the blonde's intoxicated exuberance. "C'mon, we just opened the second bottle of wine!"

"Great, I have the perfect outfit for you," Zapata smirked as she appeared around the corner. Jane raised her eyebrow, trying to put on a brave face. "Plus whenever we take you out, we get twice as many free drinks."

Patterson chuckled, grabbing the newly opened bottle and another glass. "It's true, you know."

Jane scoffed playfully. "So you're using me for what, my looks?"

Tasha shrugged, pretending to mull over the question. "That sounds so harsh. I consider it a mutually beneficial friendship."

"You guys are terrible," Jane laughed, feeling better than she had in weeks.

They set to work dressing her up as they always did. Their own living, breathing Barbie Doll.

They styled her pitch dark hair, painted her lips a vampy scarlet, drew thick, sharp winged lines across her eyelids and amplified her lashes with no less than six coats of mascara.

Borrowing clothes from Zapata was usually easier than borrowing Patterson's, but only slightly so. While Jane was taller and leaner than them, the issue stemmed from the simple fact both women were graced with slightly bigger…assets, than she.

As it was, Jane couldn't deny that she quite liked the shirt Zapata leant her. It was a bold choice; the vibrant red silk tank matching the color of her lips, held by straps barely thicker than a strand of hair. The tank dipped significantly lower in the front than it would have on Tasha, which was the whole reason she'd made Jane wear it. They weren't able to wrangle her into a pair of heels, much to Patterson's dismay, but allowed her to wear a pair of nice ankle boots along with her black jeans.

Baby steps, they supposed.

Normally, Jane would try to hide herself away in a booth when the three of them went out, keeping her coat on and stuffing herself into a dark corner. She didn't like the attention she received—a good portion of it oftentimes having nothing to do with her tattoos. With how Kurt looked at her—or at least used to look at her—she could easily ascertain she was rather pretty. Beautiful, even.

The image of Allison opening Kurt's door flickered in the forefront of her mind. For once, she was tired of hiding in corners.

Jane shrugged off her jacket to her friend's surprise, her tattoo-covered arms displayed for all to see as they took seats at the bar. Music thumped in the background, but it was still early in the night. True club-goers wouldn't file in until later.

"Well, look at you!" Patterson smiled, nudging Jane's shoulder. "Someone's feeling bold."

Jane quirked her lip. "Guess I'm just tired of hiding."

"About time," Zapata said encouragingly. "The wallflower finally joined the party."

"Thanks…I think?" Jane replied, as three shots were deposited in front of them.

"From the gentlemen over there," the bartender nodded toward a high top. The girls looked at each other, laughing, as they held the shots up towards the guys in a silly salute.

This went on for a while, until Patterson was a giggling mess and Zapata started hitting on the bartenders.

And the girls were none the wiser to Jane's attempts at drowning her sorrows. She wanted to blame Oscar, for barging in on her perfectly oblivious life. She wanted to blame Kurt, for rejecting her so quickly, so thoughtlessly. As another round of shots was placed in front of them, she grabbed the closest one, tossing it back without preamble before tapping the tiny rim, demanding another.

In truth, she only had herself to blame.

"You okay? You seem…off," Zapata observed, having slowed her liquor consumption down in favor of watching over their asset.

"Fine. Why?" Jane asked brusquely, the burn of alcohol not doing enough to erase either the last week or the last month.

Tasha shrugged. "You just…haven't been yourself, lately."

Jane raised an eyebrow, snorting. "How would you know?" she bit out.

Zapata only frowned, her concern growing. She wasn't someone who backed down, especially when she knew something was wrong. She'd been an angry teenager once—an even angrier adult at times. She knew what an internal struggle looked like, what it could manifest into. Resentment, rage, lashing out, fighting back, _broken noses._

"I wouldn't. But I know what it's like, to be that angry," she tried again. Tasha knew her attempt backfired the second Jane met her eyes.

"Sure, because _you've_ had your identity stripped away, _you've_ lost everything you've ever known—if you even had anything to lose. _You're_ the victim and the villain, right? Please, tell me what it's like to be _this angry_ ," Jane hissed, gripping her glass so tightly Tasha was sure she'd shatter it. When she received no response, Jane gave her a taut smile. "That's what I thought."

Jane moved off the barstool, making her way into the crowd. Tasha stared after her, suddenly glad Patterson had gone off in search of the restrooms before she'd decided to interrogate Jane.

Tasha paused, twirling the cherry floating in her drink. She latched onto Jane's words—one phrase in particular making her itch with suspicion.

 _You're the victim and the villain, right?_

What did that even mean? Victim she understood, villain she did not. It wasn't a slip of the tongue, a misspoken word. Kurt's broken nose earlier in the day suddenly made a lot more sense, if that's what she was referring to. But that didn't seem like enough to make her a "villain," and Kurt claimed it was an accident.

It was more than that. The silence between their lead agent and their asset had been crippling the past week. Something had fundamentally changed between them. Had she remembered something? Had something happened?

And the way she said it, full of such pain and…hatred. _Towards herself._

 _You're the victim and the villain._

Zapata shook her head.

No. _No._ Jane wouldn't…

And there was the rub, Tasha thought, sinking back against her chair. A tiny sliver of a larger puzzle forming. _Jane_ was a victim. But whoever she'd been before…

Well, they didn't know _her._

"Did I miss anything?" Patterson asked, hopping up onto the stool Jane had vacated.

"No," Zapata answered quietly, pulling out her cell phone. "I need to make a call."

XOX

Jane fumed, aimlessly wondering through the crowd. Zapata hadn't done anything wrong. She was concerned, and she had every right to be. It wouldn't serve her well, alienating the few friends she actually had.

She pushed through the throng of dancing bodies. What she needed was air.

She made her way down the back hall, finding an exit meant for staff. The chill hit her hard, forcing goosebumps to race across her skin. Jane regretted not grabbing her jacket, but somehow she figured she'd been through worse in her former life.

Jane breathed deeply, content with the silence.

"It's beautiful," a man's voice said gruffly. Jane whipped around, startled by the stranger she hadn't seen standing next to her. The cigarette glowed red in the dark between his fingers.

"What?" Jane asked numbly.

"Your ink," he said, nodding at her bare arms. "The detail, it's so elegant and precise. Who did it?"

"Um…a lot of people," she answered vaguely. Not like she could very well tell him even if she wanted to. She quickly added, "I'm not from around here."

"Ever think about adding more?" he continued conversationally.

Jane laughed lightly. "I…um…don't have a lot of room left."

"Full body? That's awesome. I'd love to see it sometime," the man said, a bit to excitedly. Jane recoiled, moving back towards the door. "No, sorry—that's not what I meant, I swear."

Jane tilted her head as he laughed bashfully, tossing the cigarette to the ground and mashing it under his boot. Finally emerging from the shadows, she could see he was rather good-looking—all squared jaw and three day stubble and clear brown eyes.

And covered in tattoos.

"I'm Kyle," he said, pulling a business card from his wallet. He held it out to her, and she took it hesitantly. "I'm a tattoo artist. I promise I don't always come off like a stalker when I talk. I just don't come across a lot of women with full body ink."

"I'm Jane," she answered the unspoken question, feeling relieved as she shook his hand. "I was kind of surprised I went through with it myself."

"Well, Jane, if you manage to find any free space, let me know. I also do cover-up work, if you ever break up with your boyfriend," he teased good-naturedly, his eyes still taking in her extensive body art.

"Boyfriend?" she replied, puzzled, before it dawned on her.

"The name on your back. You don't have a ring, so I'm guessing this Kurt Weller is your boyfriend. Risky move either way, but I can't judge. Not like I haven't been there." He indicated a tiny tattoo on his forearm—a red heart with the name "Amy" written in elegant script inside.

It wasn't nearly as dramatic as the block letters between her shoulder blades, but before she could point that out, someone called his name from inside the bar. He winked, tapping the business card between her fingers.

"I'm serious though, I can work miracles."

He dipped back into the bar without a goodbye, and she could only assume he left it like that on purpose. She stared at the card, debating whether to toss it before tucking it into her front pocket.

Someday, she thought, when her body was no longer some over-indulgent treasure map, she may just take him up on his offer.

XOX

"Hey, where did you go?" Patterson questioned, her words slurring noticeably when Jane returned.

"I just needed some air. Where's Tasha?"

Patterson shrugged unevenly, her martini sloshing over the sides of the glass she held. "I think she had to make a call."

Jane nodded, feeling relieved and tense at the same time. She tried to replay their conversation, but the details were hazy. She hadn't been as inhibited as she usually was—had she inadvertently let something slip?

 _This is what paranoia feels like_ , she admonished herself.

"I think I'm gonna head out," Jane almost had to shout over the music. Club hours were taking over.

"Aww, but you look so pretty. We still need to find you a guy! That was our whole plan!" Patterson pouted, looking put out. Jane gave her an amused smile.

"I'm just…I have a headache. I promise, you guys can set me up with whoever you want next time," Jane offered, knowing it would never happen. How could it, with Weller's name emblazoned on her back? Kyle had observantly pointed that out, probably assuming she was some silly girl who'd decided to tattoo her boyfriend's name on her body to prove her undying love. She'd never given much thought to how it made her look until he mentioned it. Never gave much thought to what that could mean for her future.

 _Risky move either way._

He didn't know the half of it.

There was no escaping Kurt Weller, even when they weren't talking to each other. They were inextricably linked, and there was no undoing that. Whether Kyle covered up the tattoo or not, it would always be there.

"I'll see you later," Jane smiled again as Patterson pulled her into an uncoordinated hug, more of her martini spilling on Jane. "Tell Tasha I said bye."

Jane pulled on her coat, escaping the loud, oppressive bar. Tasha wasn't outside, which suited Jane fine. Add Zapata to the ever-growing list of awkward conversations and people she should probably start avoiding.

XOX

"Who was at the door?" Kurt asked, returning with another bottle of wine. Sarah had left them to tuck Sawyer into bed, not without reminding them to save some for her.

Allison sighed, setting her glass on the table. "Why isn't she here, Kurt?"

"Who?" he asked, knowing full well the _who_ she was talking about.

"Please, don't patronize me. You know better than that."

Kurt winced, setting the bottle down. "It's c—"

"Complicated?" Ally laughed, crossing her arms over her chest and staring him down. "I think I've heard that somewhere before? Oh, right, when we were together. Please, you can come up with a better excuse than that."

"She lied to me. Used me for…I don't even know what."

Allison scoffed, rolling her eyes. "What, you're telling me you haven't lied to her? I find that doubtful. And she's a _consultant_ , right? If that's the case, you're using her, too."

Allison watched a dark spark light his eyes.

"What is it you think you know, Ally," he growled, not liking her tone or its implication. She'd been curious the last time, but it had grown exponentially, asking more questions, fishing for information.

She leaned towards him conspiratorially. "I think consultant's don't get guns," she replied, equal parts knowing and perplexed. Fear crossed his face, and she took that as her cue to back off that particular train of thought.

"She is classified, Ally. So drop it," Kurt said with as much restraint as he could muster.

She wondered if he picked up on his own verbal slip. " _She is_ ," not " _It is_ ," circling in her mind. _How could a whole woman be classified?_ But if he was that scared of her figuring it out…well, it was something big. Ally forfeited, dropping one topic in exchange for the other.

"Then why'd you pull me into the middle of your drama, Kurt? I came back for a case, not for you. And not for you to drag me into some fight with your girlfriend!" Ally snapped, her voice softening as she remembered Sarah still lurked nearby. "Don't get me wrong, I'd be in, if you were actually interested in me."

Kurt averted his gaze, running a hand through his hair. "That's not fair, Ally."

"No, Kurt. You trying to flirt with me in front of her, using me to distract yourself from your problems—that's not fair. To her, or me."

"I don't know what to do," Kurt said after a long moment, meeting her hazel eyes. Forgiving people didn't come easily to him. His father was proof of that. "Or how to fix it."

Allison stared at him, taking pity on the man she'd once loved.

"You talk to her."

XOX

Aside from her meetings with Oscar, Jane hadn't done much with her newfound freedom. Midnight probably wasn't the best time to start, she thought, finding herself in the park down the street from where Kurt lived. The very spot he'd wanted her to meet him at.

She settled on the bench, trying to picture him, waiting for the woman that never showed. How that must have hurt.

She sighed, closing her eyes against the cool breeze coming off the water.

Trapped—that's how she felt. Stuck doing Oscar's bidding, stuck working for the FBI, while they both pretended she actually had a say in the matter. A part of her couldn't trust Oscar completely, and the same could be said about the FBI. Her loyalties remained divided, her personality split in two. And she was getting nowhere fast.

Jane felt someone sit down next to her, the old bench creaking beneath the added weight.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, swiping at a tear she didn't realize had fallen.

Kurt gave a short laugh, leaning his elbows on his knees. "I told you I come here to think. The better question is what you're doing here."

"I don't know," she said, deciding to throw his own reason back at him. "Thinking."

He hesitated before speaking. "Zapata called me. She said you…weren't doing great. I tried your safe house. Tried the office. Ran out of places after that. Didn't really expect to find you here."

"To be fair, I came to you first," she felt the need to say, raising an eyebrow at him. "You were…busy."

"With Allison…and my sister…and Sawyer," Kurt explained gently. Jane's forehead knit in confusion. "They stayed friends—Ally and Sarah—after we broke up. We always try to get a dinner together when she's in town. She leaves in a couple days and this was the best night for everyone."

 _Oh._ She could have laughed at how pathetic she must have seemed, all things considered. Jealous and petty, upset that the man she'd all but rejected may have run back to his ex-girlfriend.

Jane swallowed hard, turning to face him finally. "I should have met you that night. I never should have…should have gone to him."

"I get it, Jane. You want answers. I can't fault you for that—there are things he knows that we might never know about you. It's an enticing offer, one I probably would have taken in your shoes," he said, hesitating once more. "I'm sorry…for the things I said earlier. For how I've acted this past week. You kept things from me, but it's my fault, too. I've put you up on some kind of pedestal, in my mind. I did that, and I shouldn't have put that kind of pressure on you. As for flirting with Ally…I just wanted to hurt you back, and that wasn't fair. We're…good, at hurting each other. And I'm not talking about the broken nose."

Jane laughed, but it stuck in her throat.

"I thought I could do this," she began, her voice made raspier by the lump she was trying to choke back. "I could push you away, pretend I didn't want this, keep you safe from me, and from them. I thought I could trust Oscar, because of what we were before, do what he asked and get my answers and not let it affect my relationship with you, and the team. I thought I could play on both sides. But…that's not how it works, is it?"

Kurt tilted her chin up, holding her tortured gaze. She'd managed to hide how torn she was for so long, fighting a losing battle on her own.

"No, it's not. You need to make a choice, Jane."

She nodded, fearing this moment. It'd been coming to this for a while, and she'd known it.

If she were being honest with herself, it's why she'd told Kurt everything in the first place. No matter the hurt it caused, he'd come back. He'd tell her exactly this. She'd relied on it.

"What if I make the wrong one?" Jane whispered. _What if she'd been making the wrong choices all along?_

He seemed to read her mind, his lip quirking in a half smile. "I think that's part of the reason you wiped your mind to begin with, Jane. You gave yourself a chance to make an impartial decision, without the past or the future affecting it. You still don't know who you were, or what you stood for, before. You don't know who you're going to become, now. Both carry weight, but without the context, they're meaningless. It was your failsafe. That's why you did this to yourself."

"You really believe that?" she asked, feeling a traitorous blush creeping up on her cheeks.

"I've had some time to think about it, seeing as I've sort of been in a fight with this friend of mine," he smirked as she rolled her eyes. "She's…she thinks she's the villain in the story. But I don't think that. Misguided, maybe. Torn, for sure. But I think she has good intentions."

She blinked at his assessment, biting her quivering lip and reminding herself more than him. "This isn't black and white, Kurt."

"I know, Jane. I never said it was. You have no reason to trust us, and you have no reason to trust him. So, trust yourself," Kurt said, weaving his fingers through hers. He squeezed her hand. "Not some old video, or a story he's told you—not even your memories. Trust _this_ you."

He released her hand, standing.

She followed after him. "Where are you going?"

"Home. My dad and I…we talked. And I was wrong—for twenty-five years I hated him, blamed him for something he never did, never even thought about doing. Whatever time he has left, I want to try to make up for that," he answered her, watching her expression turn sympathetic at the sadness in his tone. So his father was an innocent man, after all. Another dead end in a long line of dead ends. "Just…when you make your choice, tell me, okay?"

It was the least she could do. She nodded, agreeing to his terms.

He hesitated, his blue eyes going dark as they traveled over her. "You look beautiful, Jane."

She smiled, a flutter of hope that she hadn't broken them completely surging in her as he turned, walking away.

XOX

The weekend passed, and Monday came.

Kurt hadn't heard from Jane since their talk in the park, and despite his worry, he gave her the benefit of the doubt this time.

"What's going on?" Kurt asked, seeing Zapata, Patterson, and Reade, arms crossed, leaning against his desk. Three sets of eyes focused on something in the distance.

"Not sure," Reade answered faintly.

"She's been in there since before we got here," Patterson added, curiosity coloring her tone.

Zapata didn't say a word, instead turning to meet his gaze.

Kurt followed their line of sight, inhaling sharply. Jane sat in Mayfair's office, talking animatedly, her back ramrod straight in the chair. Mayfair's expressions shifted in rapid succession—anger, suspicion, fear, understanding.

"Whatever it is, it doesn't look good," Reade surmised.

Zapata sighed, grabbing Kurt's arm and steering him away from the other agents.

"You don't seem surprised," she observed, her thoughts wondering back to what Jane had said in the bar.

On the contrary, he was shocked. For a completely different reason.

"Can't be surprised when you already know what's going on," he said.

Tasha nodded, studying him intently. Jane and Kurt had finally made up, or at least gotten back to good after the phone call she'd made to him. He'd laughed across the line, having already been harassed by Allison. "She hurt you, didn't she, with whatever this is about?"

"Yeah, but I hurt her too. Just…give her a chance, to explain. It's not like she had a choice before," Kurt said, watching the door to Mayfair's office open in his periphery. Jane caught his eyes, giving him the slightest of nods. "But she does now."

"If _you_ can accept whatever this is, so will we," Zapata said, assuaging some of his guilt.

Jane stopped in front of them, her gaze bouncing to each of them nervously. She wiped her hands on her jeans, anxious as she opened her mouth.

"There are some things I need to tell you…"

XOX

She expected the knock on her door, not surprised to find Kurt on the other side. Jane moved, allowing him in.

She looked incredibly sad, not that he could blame her.

"They'll come around, Jane. It's a lot to take in," he said, trying to sound comforting.

"How can you be sure? Telling you—one person—was hard enough. Telling three people at once…that was harder."

Their mixed reactions had all but given her whiplash.

Kurt shrugged. "Because I did. Patterson is logical, she'll probably be the first to come around once she weighs all the possibilities. I think Zapata knew, in her own way—she's just stubborn. As for Reade…well, he doesn't have a leg to stand on right now."

Jane looked at him curiously.

"He's been secretly dating Sarah the last few months."

Jane's eyebrows nearly hit the top of her forehead. "So…you've forgiven your father after twenty-five years of blame for something that never happened, your subordinate is dating your little sister, and I managed to tear us apart in a matter of minutes with all the secrets I'd been keeping. Sounds like a lot to take in."

"At least we have this," Kurt said, holding up the bottle of bourbon he'd brought with him.

She smiled, beckoning him towards the tiny kitchen. Jane rummaged in her cabinets for two glasses while Kurt opened the bottle.

He gave them each a heavy pour as they sat at the breakfast bar.

"So, what were you and Mayfair discussing before you told the team?"

Jane sipped her bourbon, enjoying the burn it left in her throat. Her eyes wondered towards his. "How I'll continue to do this. I'll continue to meet with Oscar, I'll continue the missions he gives me, and I'll report all of it back…to you. No paper trail—that was my stipulation."

With the scrutiny Mayfair was under at the hands of Jonas Fisher, it wasn't surprising to Kurt that their boss agreed to this. Couldn't afford to have a rogue asset on their hands.

"Why me? Why not Mayfair?"

"Because I trust you, more than anyone," she said bluntly.

He studied her for a long moment. "And I'll know what information to leave out, when I have to."

Jane nodded uncomfortably. "I may not trust him completely…but part of me remembers him, Kurt, and if there's a way to save him, I want to. I think I owe him that."

"You _are_ a good person, Jane…I'm sorry I made you think otherwise," Kurt stated, finishing off the bourbon in his glass. He knew, deep down, that she'd been trying to keep them all safe by not divulging her off-book activities. Plausible deniability—she could beat a polygraph, but they could not. Fisher didn't know that, but it was better for everyone if he didn't have a reason to dig any deeper. It took Kurt a week to figure that out, he was a bit ashamed to admit.

"Kurt, I…um…I know Oscar told me I was Taylor…but it doesn't feel right, somehow. I feel like he told me that I was because that's what I wanted to hear," she segued awkwardly, tracing her finger around the rim of her glass.

Kurt sighed, reaching for her hand as he had in the park, running his thumb over her knuckles.

"That hasn't mattered to me in awhile, Jane. If you're her, if you're not. What matters is you're you, and no one else. Even if he's right, and you actually are Taylor, she's…gone. That little girl is never coming back, and that's all right. Because she's still my friend—she's just a very beautiful, very brave woman now," he finished, no louder than a whisper.

Jane's eyes were glossy with unshed tears, her glass of bourbon forgotten on the countertop.

She felt ridiculous asking the question poised on her tongue. She didn't have a right to, and if she were in his position, she'd certainly think it contrived.

"Did we…did I ruin any chance there was, at us?" She asked, gaze falling to their entwined hands. "I understand, if I did. I just…need to know."

"No, Jane. You didn't," he said slowly, choosing his words carefully. "Whatever this is, between us…it's strong, but I think it's dangerous, too. We've tried to be professional, and that didn't work. We've tried just being friends and that…works, to an extent. We can't even fight with each other properly."

She chuckled softly at that, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she pictured their ridiculous brawl, as Zapata called it. "I'm really sorry, you know, about your nose."

"I know, Jane," he said lightly. "And as much as I want this, I'm not sure you're ready for it. You've been through a lot, and this might not be the best time to throw a relationship into the mix."

Jane nodded, feeling a bit deflated. It was neither rejection nor acceptance, as muddled in gray as the life she lived. He was right, of course. Her feelings for him were strong, the connection between them was strong—but it was dangerous too. They still didn't know who she really was, or what her motives were. And now she had her former fiancé to contend with, to spy on, and the emotional turmoil she was sure to suffer because of that scared her. In turn, it scared him. She could just as easily turn on him, and run back to Oscar. It wasn't just her heart he was trying to protect with his pretty speech.

"I guess I'll just have to work on gaining your trust back. That's the real reason, right?" She hadn't said it accusingly, but she could see that she was correct. Jane held up her hand to stop him when he moved to speak. "It's okay. I barely trust me. But you should know I want this too, Kurt. I always did. I know we're complicated, I know you're afraid I'll go back to him, and we have no way of proving I won't," she said firmly. "But I chose _you_. I hope you remember that."

"I know," Kurt agreed, realizing how well she could read him and knowing it was time to leave before they did something they regretted. Or worse, he thought—something that they didn't regret.

Kurt stood, leaving the remaining bottle of bourbon for the next occasion they had to drink it. Her wide, vivid green eyes gave him pause, making him feel he should offer her some kind of redemption after everything they'd put themselves through.

"How about I make us dinner, tomorrow? We can…talk more."

Jane sat a little straighter, the small grin on her face growing. It wasn't much, but it was a _chance._ One she never thought she'd get again.

"I'd like that," she answered, moving off the stool and following him towards her front door.

Kurt lingered in the threshold for a moment, as if deciding something, before he cupped her cheek, pressing a barely there kiss to her lips. He was gone before she had time to realize what was happening.

Jane touched her lips, smiling.

It was enough, for now.

XOX

 _I'm willing_

 _To take the bullet_

 _With my finger on the trigger_

 _I'll be the one to pull it_

 _Cause I know one of us has to do it_

 _So I'll do it_

 _Oh darling if you're looking_

 _If you're looking, if you're looking_

 _For a villain_

 _Im willing…_


End file.
